


I was waiting on me to be me

by stekcub



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Fluff, Gen, Hinted Jim Street/Victor Tan, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, a dash of sexy times, no beta we die like s.w.a.t. extras, really wanna write a couple more to go with this but we will see :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29968179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stekcub/pseuds/stekcub
Summary: Street’s learned that in life you make plans and then you trash those plans. Fuck plans. He'd planned on never having to come out at work. Well. Fuck plans.---or in other words, street is bisexual, no i do not accept any counter arguments or constructive criticism.
Relationships: Christina "Chris" Alonso & Jim Street, Jim Street & Victor Tan, Jim Street/Victor Tan, crackship Black Betty/Dominique Luca
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	I was waiting on me to be me

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello, welcome!
> 
> check end notes for a little bit of background if you'd like!

It doesn’t actually come as a surprise when he’s roughly pushed up against the door of the bathroom and pinned by his shoulders with dark, hazel eyes studying his face. But he is surprised by how strongly he feels something in him snap and the liquid heat that pools in his gut.

It’s quiet enough that he can hear the way his own breath picks up when a hand moves up to cup the side of his face, a thumb swiping over his slightly parted lips.

“Were you ever planning’ on makin’ a move or were we just gonna dance around each other all night?”

Street swallows roughly and wets his lips, tongue just barely brushing against the thumb as it presses to the corner of his mouth, his eyes staying locked with the other man. “Got no idea what you mean.” It comes out breathier than he meant it to.

The man—handsome in ways he hadn’t been able to see before from further away, with high, angular cheekbones, radiant, brown skin and plush, full lips—smirks and _God_ , he can’t hide the way his breath catches and he leans into the touch against his lips.

“...Fuck..” Street breathes.

Their lips connect and he’s not sure who moved first but with a hand buried in soft curls, he gives as good as he gets. And hell, it’s _damn good_. The kiss is wet and rough and he can feel the way man rises to the challenge and _fuck_. It’s just _everything_ he needs in that moment.

When they break he has to exercise more self-control than he’d like to keep from chasing after the other man.

“Shit-” He hears himself gasp through the pounding of his blood in his ears.

The man’s breath is coming out just as hot and heavy as his own, his eyes somehow darker and more alluring. Street feels his face flush.

God, it’s really been too long, hasn’t it?

“You got a name, cutie?”

“Jim.”

“I’m Mateo.”

Hands skate down his sides and rest on his hips. His breath catches in his throat when their lips collide again and the pressure against his left hip slides back to squeeze his ass.

He can feel the pleased, deep and low rumble from the man’s chest against his own. His hips push back into the touch before he knows it and it earns him a light chuckle and a sizzling kiss against his neck, right over his racing pulse.

“I’m thinking we should take this somewhere more… private. Hm?”

In the two seconds it takes for Street to get his brain back online, his mouth is too preoccupied to give an answer. Mateo captures his lips forcefully, his grip tightening.

Street feels himself arch up into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut and hands moving to grab the man behind the neck and pull him closer.

By the time Mateo lets him up for air, Street’s knees are weak, his lips are slick and the taste of him burns on his tongue. From head to toe, every nerve in his body pulses with heat and holy hell, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt like this.

“Yeah, okay,” he pants against Mateo’s neck, grazing his teeth over the exposed skin.

In the back of a cab it’s all he can do to keep from losing his mind while Mateo’s hands wander and tease up and down his body. And when he’s roughly pushed back onto a bed, he goes eagerly and let’s himself savor every moment.

* * *

Street shoves away his helmet and sighs heavily, pointedly ignoring the low ache in his lower back and legs. He really needs to get out more if he’s sore from just-

“Fun night?”

He doesn’t jump—because he’s been trained better than that—but his head snaps up to find Chis watching him by the door.

“Uh,” he closes the locker a little too quickly and clears his throat, “what.”

She wanders over to him and stands closer than strictly necessary for casual dialogue. He feels his throat tighten.

“You weren’t at your place last night,” she says with a relaxed shrug. Street’s stomach drops and just hopes that his facial expression doesn’t betray anything.

“Tan and I had decided last minute to check out the new Korean barbecue place that Luca recommended and we dropped by your place to see if you wanted to come, but, you weren’t home, so, I figured you went out last night.” Chris raises an expectant brow.

“Ah, well,” he coughs, “just. Spent the evening catching up with an old friend. At their place. Far from my place.”

“Mmm. Must’ve stayed pretty late,” Chris comments innocently. “We stopped by around nine.”

“Yeah, lost track of time,” he throws back with a tight smile and makes his way towards the exit.

His hand is on the handle when Chris calls to him.

“You know, if you’re finally seeing someone again, it’s only a matter of time before I find out.” He can hear the smirk in her words.

Shaking his head to himself and smiling, he leaves without another word.

It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when he’s finally able to shuck off his tactical gear and focus solely on getting home and passing out on his bed for at least ten hours.

The clang of locker doors and equipment isn’t enough to make him look up from lacing up his shoes, but when someone clears their voice from above him, he does.

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone again.”

He huffs and shakes his head, standing to match Tan’s level. “I’m not.”

Tan’s brow furrows faintly and there’s the nearly imperceptible tilt of his head to his left. Ever since Street noticed how Tan’s head tilts just a tiny bit to the side when he’s taken aback or confused, he likes to watch for it.

He can’t help but smile. “You gonna trust Chris’s speculations or my word?”

His teammate looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. So Street throws on his jacket and heads for the door.

* * *

A few days later they’re on call and just killing time by hanging around the station and doing training exercises. He’s positive that Chris hasn’t dropped her personal investigation on his love life, but he’s also sure that she won’t find anything or interrogate him further.

It’s pretty common for police officers from any of the nearby precincts to drop the S.W.A.T. by for various reasons, so Street doesn’t really notice the pair of officers who walk by him.

But mumbled conversation catches his attention. Two officers, whom he vaguely recognizes from the few mandatory department-wide meetings they’ve had, track the two officers as they walk away.

“Man. They’ll really just let anybody become an officer these days.”

“Stupid queer.”

“Heh, probably only barely passed the physical requirements too, heh heh.”

The duo walk away snickering to themselves.

Street can feel the burn on the tips of his ears. He can feel the twist in his gut. His chest is tight and he’s not sure how he made it to the locker room but he’s there now and there’s a small pendant from the bottom of his backpack in his palm and he just needs to breathe, yeah, breathe a little slower, hold for five seconds, back out for five seconds, hold for five seconds and back in for five seconds.

The tightness in his chest is looser now and the trembling in his hands is less violent but he can feel his feet on the ground and the cold, smooth metal in his hand and that’s enough for now.

He stares at the stripes of bright colors shining up at him. He stares for a long time. He thinks of a summer years and years ago, and is still to this day, the best summer of his life.

A warm hand in his own. Late nights under the spray of a thunderstorm. Endless afternoons outdoors. Experiencing wholehearted acceptance for the first time in his life. Feeling an overwhelming sense of self-love and pride.

He draws from the memories.

Breathing deeply, he stows the little triangle-shaped pendant away. He’s okay. It’s all okay.

“Street.”

“Yeah?” He squints down at the incomplete sudoku puzzle, recounting down the row.

_No, there’s no way a seven can go there..._

Tan’s feet shuffle into the corner of his vision. “I’m gonna grab something to eat before heading home.”

“Okay.”

_One...four...eight... three— oh, that can’t go there..._

“...Would you like to come?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, not sure where Chris went though-”

“I-... I meant just me and you.”

He looks up. “...What?”

Tan looks more flustered than he’s ever seen him. “I just meant, like, the two of us... us two friends, we could just go get something to eat— Damnit, Street, it’s a yes or no question.”

He really wants to cock an eyebrow and grill Tan about what could be bothering him so much that he’s now red in the face. But he doesn’t, because that three can definitely go there, why on Earth would it not be able to?

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” he agrees with an easy smile. The tight line of Tan’s shoulders relaxes and a smile is returned.

* * *

“LA-PD S.W.A.T. Everyone get down!” Hondo roars, leading the charge through the house.

“Left side clear!”

“Right side clear!”

Hondo reaches a closed door at the end of the hall. “Gimme two, gimme two!”

“Two! Two!” Street responds, positioning himself for entry.

The door is flung open and he moves smoothly to fill the gap, scanning the room from end to end. He spots a crouched figure against the far wall.

“Hands! Lemme see your hands!”

Trembling hands raise and he’s met by bloodshot, terrified eyes.

“Are you Avery Weber?” Hondo asks.

The kid nods. There’s a ring of bruises around one of their wrists.

“We got a call saying you were in danger of being killed by your parents, where are they?”

The kid’s eyes look too dry to cry but their lip trembles and a sob shudders through their body. “I- I don’t know, they left like... I- I d-don’t know, m-maybe thirty minutes ago?”

“Rest of the house is clear,” Deacon reports, walking in.

Hondo nods and turns back to Avery. “We’re gonna let the EMTs check you out now, we’ll keep you safe.”

Tan and Hondo help the kid get to their feet and Street watches as they slowly exit. He turns his attention to the room.

It’s completely trashed and looks like it’s been that way for a while. A flash of bright color catches his eye, buried under the mattress that’s been knocked askew. He lifts the edge and his heart clenches. It’s come a little undone but it’s still folded so small, meant to never be found. He tucks the pride flag further under the mattress and leaves the room.

“There’s nothing we can do until social services arrive. That, or the parents arrive to pick up their kid. I believe that the kid was in danger, to what extent though, we’re not sure. But it’s not up to us anymore,” Hondo debriefs, finishing with a nod of dismissal.

Street wrings his fingers together. “I don’t think the kid will be safe with social services. I think we should find a different, more specialized plan for them.”

All eyes turn to him.

“And why is that, Street?” Hondo asks, curious.

He shrugs, studying the wall behind Hondo's head. “The kid’s queer. Closeted. And if social services find out, there’s too high a chance they’ll out the kid to their parents. And from there, it only gets worse for the kid; I’ve seen it before.”

“You seem sure about that,” Deacon comments.

“I’ve seen it before,” he repeats.

There’s more to it than that, and he knows that they know that, but he doesn’t elaborate. Besides, it’s not about him. It’s about keeping this kid safe.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hondo says with a nod.

He leaves without another word.

When things start to build up and verge on overwhelming, some people like to go to the spa, or take a day to relax and get away from everything. For Street, he’s found that his issues are best dealt with by way of exercising until his limbs go numb. That’s how he found himself in the gym, way past the end of his shift, on his fifteenth set.

Logically, he’s fully aware and knows that there are better ways to sort through emotional turmoil. At the same time, this is what’s available for now.

He strips off his boxing gloves and hops on the treadmill. Two miles would probably be good enough for the night, he figures.

He’s cuing up the settings when he catches something entering the edge of his vision. He pauses and turns, locking gazes with Tan.

“Late night,” Tan offers by way of greeting.

“Same to you,” he replies, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he’d ditched his shirt about an hour back and he’s drenched in sweat. He clears his throat. “What can I help you with? Wanna join? Or are you scared I’ll kick your ass again?”

He’s pretty sure he gets a slight uptick in the corner of Tan’s mouth and silently counts it as a victory. Tan approaches, wearing the same clothes he’d left the station in about four hours ago. “It’s not good to exercise too much.”

He suppresses a snort and presses start, choosing not to reply.

A hand reaches out and shuts down the treadmill. He slows his jog, turning to look at Tan who’s not quite glaring at him, but clearly not pleased with him.

“I’m serious Street. You’ve been here for the past four hours, you’re sweating buckets, and we’ll be on call all day tomorrow. Don’t do this to yourself.”

He clenches his jaw and returns Tan’s stare. His breathing is the only sound in the room as they watch each other. Tan’s tense, like how he gets before entering hostage situations, and his brow is furrowed.

He sighs and relents, stepping off the treadmill, averting his eyes. Wordlessly, he grabs his shirt from the floor and makes his way to the showers. He’s not sure if Tan follows him until he hears shoes other than his own on the tile.

He glances back at Tan who’s standing by the door. “Am I being babysat? Did Chris send you?” There’s no anger in his voice, just a tired kind of resignation.

“No. To both.”

He sighs and finishes undressing and stands under the hot spray. The instant the water begins to run down his body, he reluctantly finds himself glad that Tan showed up when he did. The deep ache in his muscles is already setting in and it’s enough to make him wince as he twists and reaches to wash his body.

When he steps out, Tan’s no longer by the door, but he somehow knows that Tan hasn’t really left. He dries off and redresses himself in clothes that aren’t soaked in his sweat, making his way back to his locker. Tan is standing next to it.

He raises an eyebrow as he starts packing his things. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

Tan’s eyes never leave him as he finishes organizing, not even when he averts his own gaze. “I already told you, and I’ll tell you again: I’m not babysitting you.”

He doesn’t believe it, and maybe it’s because he’s not sure why else Tan would be shadowing him like some kind of chaperone, but he doesn’t comment on it any further.

He leaves the building, acutely aware of Tan walking not quite next to him but not quite behind him, and locates his motorcycle easily.

He’s dead set on just ignoring Tan and letting him be weird but as he mounts his bike, he feels a pair of eyes boring into the side of his face. Sure enough, when he glances up, Tan’s watching him, expression guarded but eyes soft.

He brushes it off and drives away, but he can’t get the other man out of his head for the rest of the night.

* * *

He’s about one large iced-coffee and one mug of Hondo-style coffee into his day and it’s still not enough to get all of the gears in his brain turning like normal when none other than Hondo himself approaches him.

“Street. Heard you had a pretty late night here, anything you want to talk about?” He asks without preamble and Jesus, no one should be able to look that awake and alert after less than eight hours between eighteen hour shifts.

He’s slow to answer and knows it’s gonna just make Hondo’s forehead wrinkle more which leads to one-on-one conversations at the end of shifts but he needs the extra three seconds for the question to fully register in his brain. “Nope. Just… spent some time getting some sets in, y’know, work off some energy.”

Hondo’s entire face settles into his “I don’t believe a goddamn word you just said” look but the man must be busy with some assignment because he doesn’t push like he normally would. Instead he nods, drops a hefty pat on his back and does his trademark nod.

“I talked about getting that kid, Avery, into a confidential support group while everything’s being sorted out, and it sounds like you had the right idea because the social worker on the case agreed. The parents are under investigation and the kid’s school will provide what resources they can to help.”

Street gives a weak smile and nods along. “That’s good to hear.”

Hondo does his nod again and walks out.

Street gingerly makes his way through the day, picking up whatever small tasks he’s needed for until they get a call and have to gear up.

“Two male, white suspects are holed up in an old abandoned construction site. They’re armed and dangerous and also crazy enough to target people exiting from ATMs in broad daylight. So stay sharp and don’t underestimate them,” Hondo summarizes. “Fill the gaps-”

“Stay liquid!” They respond in unison.

“We’re about one minute out,” Luca reports.

Hondo looks over everyone, pausing for an extra second on Street, who firmly ignores it, and grins. “Let’s get these sons of bitches.”

The site’s perimeter is surrounded and the abandoned construction site turns out to be an old, half-finished parking garage.

They move in as a team, on high alert, and make their way up the levels, fanning out.

They’re halfway up the structure when Street get’s a feeling in his gut and glances off to his right. It’s quick, but it’s movement that’s not from any of his teammates.

“Luca, on your six!” The words are only just barely out of his mouth when the suspect stands from his crouch and fires.

The bullet misses and ricochets off the far wall harmlessly onto the ground.

“Put down the gun! Put it down!” Luca hollers, sliding smoothly into a different formation.

“Twenty-six David, we’ve got eyes on one of the suspects,” Street reports, raising his rifle when a series of bullets fire past him.

He returns fire along-side Luca, downing the suspect in no time.

“Twenty-two David, suspect is down.”

Street follows after Luca to check for a pulse and his radio crackles.

“This is Twenty David, we’ve swept every floor of this place and haven’t found the second suspect.”

He and Luca exchange a glance.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Luca’s eyes widen and his rifle raises, a warning just exiting his mouth. He’s able to duck and turn just enough to see over his shoulder and the broken-off pipe swinging down towards his head.

It clips him on the side of his head and skims off over the top of his helmet, but the force is still enough to send him stumbling to the ground. He’s able to raise his hands in just enough time to deflect the next blow but not fast enough to react to a gun being pulled and aimed at his face.

It feels like a whole three seconds where he waits for the gun to go off and when he hears two cracks of bullets firing, he expects pain.

But in the next millisecond, the suspect is crumpling to the ground and Luca is on top of the guy.

Suddenly several people are crowding over him and Deacon is saying something over the radio but all he can see is the way Tan’s looking at him. He looks... deeply upset.

He doesn’t have it in him to figure out what it’s about or worry about how Tan’s probably gonna be on his ass about letting himself get blindsided later. He grabs the hand reaching out to him and hauls himself up.

Hondo’s at his side and asking about something, probably about his head, and he’s “fine, it’s alright, it probably didn't’ even bruise and that’s why we wear helmets, right?”

Hondo has that deeply concerned look on his face—different from his “I don’t believe a goddamn word you just said,” there’s less sass and a deeper frown—so Street forces himself to walk normally, despite the way his already sore muscles scream at him from the strain of moving too fast.

The EMT on site checks him out for a few minutes, asking all of the concussion questions and ordering him to check back in before leaving for the day and again at the beginning of his next shift.

Back at headquarters Captain Cortez offers positive words and the team gathers to debrief.

“Street.”

_Ah, shit._

“Yeah, Hondo?”

The deeply concerned face is back. “Are you okay?”

He gives a smile that he knows looks forced but it’s the best he can offer, and nods. “Yes. I’m fine. Got the all-clear from the doc’s, don’t even worry about me.”

Hondo does his nod and turns to the rest of the team, catching them up.

“... And eight-thousand dollars in cash was recovered. Good work team, take it easy,” he finishes.

Street watches as everyone slowly clears out and makes his way to his locker to grab a protein bar.

He’s trying to find it under his spare change of clothes when someone else enters the room.

Tan clears his throat. “Street. Can we talk?”

He doesn’t roll his eyes or sigh, but it’s a near thing. He’d been hoping that Tan would wait until the next day to chew him out but...

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” He asks, closing his locker and turning to face the other man. Tan’s arms are crossed and he’s not at all relaxed so Street mimics his posture, which is probably a little antagonistic of him. But if Tan’s gonna be a bitch about this, he’s gonna be a bitch back.

He knows that he’s got him at a little riled up when Tan’s jaw twitches.

“Luca said your reaction time was way slower than normal, and that you would’ve been able to dodge the hit if you “weren’t so tired” as he put it,” Tan begins and Street can feel his blood pressure slowly beginning to spike. “It should’ve been an easy hit to dodge and he said he gave you enough warning-”

“I’m confused, is this about last night?” He cuts in. “Or are you just being overly critical, like usual?”

Tan doesn’t flinch, but there's a sudden sharpness in his glare and jump in his posture. “Street, I’m saying, you need to be more responsible, had you not overworked your body last night you wouldn’t have taken that hit to the head today-”

“And I’m _fine_. I’ve already told you people like five times, I’m completely okay, just a little bruised-”

“Street, you could’ve died today!”

Tan doesn’t shout. Not out of emotion. Street has never heard Tan shout like this and he feels his entire body jerk at the sound.

“Tan…” his voice is far less robust than before, “every time we go out there, there’s a chance we don’t come back.”

“It’s not usually this close, Street,” Tan fires back and he’s not shouting anymore but there’s a strain in his voice that Street didn’t hear before. “It’s not- Street, I- I can’t help thinking about what could’ve happened if I’d been just one second too slow-”

He feels his anger flare again. “Tan, I’m fine. Okay? Stop doing that thing where you think everything is your fault and what you did or didn’t do. I’ll say it again: I’m fine. Stop being mad at yourself for shit that didn’t happen.”

He leaves in a storm, ignoring the looks he gets and goes to hide in their garage. Black Betty needs a wash anyways.

As he makes his way through the vehicles, he can hear Luca and Chris’s laughter and feels the unrest sitting in his chest begin to thaw.

“Oh, hey, is that Street? Get over here! I was just telling Chris about how grumpy Black Betty gets when she’s not polished just right,” he says brightly.

Chris throws a look Street’s way so he plays nice and entertains Luca’s weird idea that the vehicle is sentient.

“Well I can’t imagine how awful it would be if we didn’t have you around to take such good care of her.” The snort he gets from Luca in return is enough to know that he overdid it a little but the older man is smiling and it’s all okay.

Chris is still looking at him when he looks back at her. The tilt of her head and gesture to follow her out of the garage are nothing more than a courtesy because he knows that she definitely knows he’s worked up about something.

“Street,” she says once they’re out of earshot and Luca has resumed having an almost concerningly in-depth conversation with the truck, “how’s your head?”

“Fine,” he mutters, unable to meet her eyes.

“Street. Sometimes it’s good for you to open up and it looks to me like it’s one of those times. What’s got you in this mood?”

That’s just one thing of many that makes Chris such a special person. She understands strife and success in ways that he doesn’t; she can listen while also being able to offer practical and helpful insight or advice. He’s not sure if there’s anyone else on the team he’d feel as comfortable talking to as he does with Chris.

“It’s… it’s not really anything. I just- Tan’s been... more critical than usual.”

Chris studies him. He has to suppress the urge to squirm like a child being told-off.

“Elaborate?”

He sighs. “He’s… you know how he is, always looking for ways to improve and be better and it’s great, I get it, I totally get it. For something like S.W.A.T. that’s important and a really good thing, but it just kind of feels like he’s singling me out, like when Luca was running the S.W.A.T. academy.”

“Hmm. What exactly is it that he does that makes you feel singled out?”

“Um, well,” he rubs a hand over his face and thinks. “Just last night he just showed up here and harassed me until I left.”

He’s not sure if he’s ever seen anyone’s eyebrow shoot up higher than Chris’s does.

“Is that so.”

He doesn’t appreciate the tone of complete and utter sarcasm but let’s it go. “Yes, it’s ‘so.’ He even just now came to find me and chew me out about it, going on about how I need to be more responsible and shit and being a dick about it,” he grouches. “That kind of shit I’d expect from Hondo or Deacon, not Tan.”

“So you’re telling me that Tan took time out of his life to harass you last night and again today to tell you... that you’re irresponsible?”

He glares at his unhelpful and unkind friend. “No- well. He was just doing that thing where he’s, like, hung up about not being the most perfect dude on the planet and was mad at me about it. Or something.”

Chris is nodding now, which feels more foreboding than her dry sarcasm.

“What,” he asks flatly.

Her smile is small, like she’s trying not to look too happy and damnit she’d better tell him what she’s thinking or he’s gonna be stuck awake all night trying to figure out what she’s hiding.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. I just gotta check on something real quick.”

“Chris, do not do this to me.”

“Thanks for opening up,” she calls over her shoulder as she beelines for the exit, the widest grin on her face.

He feels more lost than he did before.

* * *

Street’s learned that in life you make plans and then you trash those plans. Fuck plans. Shit doesn’t go according to plan and you gotta be able to suck it up and keep going because when it feels like you’re stranded, exhausted, and completely on your own, there’s nothing more important than to just keep on keeping on.

He has a weird relationship with coming out. For starters, he can’t be bothered to “pick a label” because it’s just that. It’s a label on one aspect of who you are. He doesn’t give two shits about people’s own prejudices or preconceived notions, but he _is_ bothered by how people think they know everything about you based only on your label and too often feel entitled to give _their_ opinions on _his_ life. So he doesn’t really even have a label to come out _with,_ but bisexuality hits closest to home for him.

Secondly, if you asked him to tell his coming out story, he probably couldn’t. He’s never told his mom and there’s no fucking way he would have ever told his dad. His foster family probably would’ve been alright with it but he hadn’t thought of it as their business at the time and never ended up saying anything about it.

His own sexual awakening had been so gradual that _he_ wasn’t even aware he was queer until a nameless high school classmate had asked him directly. And that was after he’d been with multiple boys.

So his plan for the entirety of his adult life was to simply never disclose his sexuality at his job. He’d heard the stories as a rookie about how cops would get their personal lives and their work lives too intertwined.

Well, everything with his mother should’ve been more than enough to show him exactly how plans never work.

“Street,” Captain Cortez calls as he walks by. He stops and turns, approaching with a smile. “I need you to keep an eye on someone for me.”

"Of course, Captain." Street follows her to her office where Dr. Wendy Hughes is sitting next to a familiar, much happier face.

“Avery, this is Officer Street,” Cortez says.

Street gives a small smile and lowers himself to look them in the eye. Avery tucks a stray curl behind their ear and returns the smile.

“Hey, Avery, wanna take a look around?” He offers, nodding over his shoulder. “I’m probably actually the best personal tour guide on the team.”

They grin and nod. “Sure.”

He takes this kid from the captain’s office, past the indoor range and around towards the break room. They're enthusiastic and curious about everything, if a little shy.

“You hungry, Avery? I think we might have some granola bars in the break room. That or we could steal Hondo’s leftovers.”

The kid shakes their head absentmindedly, taking in the long hallways and the officers passing by.

Street nods and steers them around a corner to avoid any potential commotion. “Did you enjoy the tour?”

“Wow, is it over already?” They ask, glancing up at him with a bright smirk.

He laughs and gives a shake of his head. “I know, I know, what can I say, I really am just the best tour guide.”

Their smile grows and they glance back at him a few times before slowing.

He matches them and they come to a full stop just outside the break room door.

Their head tilts to one side and their mouth scrunches up. “Does it get better? Like… does it get easier?”

Something in his chest pulls hard. “Well, better, sure. Easier?” He shrugs.

Their gaze drops. “Yeah. That makes sense, I guess. Not sure why I was expecting anything different.”

“Hey, Avery,” he says, shifting to get them to look at him, “it gets better. I can say from personal experience, that it gets better. It doesn’t necessarily get easier, but it gets better. Life is gonna throw you some amazing things and people and also some pretty bad things. But I mean, look at you standing here right now. Looks to me like you have a one-hundred percent success rate for surviving bad days. Don’t let the difficult things keep you down, life’s too short for that.”

Their smile is back at full force. “That’s kinda corny.”

“What can I say.” He gestures towards the break room and they follow after him with a bounce in their step.

“So you’re…?”

He glances back at them and opens the door. “Don’t love labels, but I’m bi.”

Avery steps through the door, humming happily, and he follows, only to freeze mid-stride.

Five pairs of eyes stare back at him.

“Actually, I think I am kinda hungry, do you have those granola bars?” Avery asks, meandering past the members of the 20-squad like they’re not even there.

Street swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t go away. “Uh. Yeah, let me get one for you.”

His heart hammers in his chest but he puts up a front and nods as casually as he can towards Hondo, walking past him.

“Here, ya go,” he says, grabbing a bar out of the box in one of the cupboards.

“Thanks, Officer Street,” Avery beams up at him. “And... thanks for, um, recommending the LGBT+ adolescent support group. I heard it was your idea and it’s been really helpful so, um, thank you.”

For a second, he forgets his entire team is watching him. He beams back. “Happy I could help.”

“Now can you show me the armory?? With the guns and explosives??”

He clears his throat, fully feeling Hondo’s eyes burning through the back of his head. “Uh, well, why don’t we take a walk by it on our way back to Dr. Wendy, how does that sound?”

“Alrighty!”

He follows Avery out the door, risking a glance over his shoulder. Deacon hurries to pretend he wasn't staring, Luca grins and waves at him, Chris is smirking like a little shit, Hondo has the “we need to talk” look on his face, and Tan... his face is blank and his posture is closed off. He tosses a smile over his shoulder and lets the door shut behind him.

The instant he steps back into the break room, all heads snap up in his direction.

“Hey, guys…” he greets in a light and playful tone, trying very hard to play it cool and casual. “Everything alright?”

Hondo steps forward and by the look in his eyes, Street knows that he knows just how terrified he is.

“Street. Why didn’t you tell us.”

“That is not what we rehearsed,” Chris cuts in before he can reply. “Hondo, please. Try again.”

Hondo looks a little lost so Street saves him the trouble.

“Hey, I’m okay, it’s alright, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he shrugs.

Chris looks at him. “We should’ve made it feel safe for you to tell us.”

He shrugs again. “And I do. I do feel… safe. Telling you guys. That I'm bisexual. Just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Never thought about doing it.”

“Hey man, we love and accept you, no matter who you wanna bang,” Luca pips up, shooting him two thumbs up.

“Right. Along the lines of what Luca said,” Deacon nods, sincerity in his voice. “We’re a team.”

He feels tension beginning to fade from his shoulders. “Thanks, guys. Really. Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

“Well, I mean, it’s about damn time,” Chris teases. He glares at her but there’s no heat behind it.

“Wait- you knew?” Luca asks, turning to Chris.

She shrugs enigmatically.

“Alright y’all, ain’t no use just standing here all day, get back to work,” Hondo orders, but he’s smiling when he does it.

And just like that, it’s over. He feels warmer and lighter than he has for a long time.

Yeah. Fuck plans. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you! i hope you enjoyed! this started out at 700 words and just as me projecting onto street but my hand slipped and tan showed up as a love interest :) thank you to the discord
> 
> -  
> i recently got into swat and i’m only on season two so i'm not really sure where in canon this takes place so approximately in some time while street’s back on swat on a probationary period. neither bonnie nor molly exist as characters exist, and for now k*ren street is completely out of the picture and does not make an appearance :)  
> i'm not overly familiar with cps or related services so apologies if the depiction is inaccurate
> 
> once more, thank you so much! sorry if the ending feels rushed :)


End file.
